a dream of spring
by edmundblack
Summary: "You never visited me."/The battle is over, and a familiar face has come to check on her, but she wants none of it - the guilt is murdering her.


"Herm-own-ninny." She looked up, bushy hair cascading down her back, and bit her lip.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, her heart heavy. She was sitting on a bench that was in the courtyard – or what was left of it. Rubble piles stood everywhere, a towering reminder. He sat next to her.

"I heard you were still breathing, and I had to see for myself." He explained. She twisted her fingers together tightly. It cut off the circulation in her fingers, but then she focused on the pain and not the tears that had been sitting in her eyes for nearly a year.

"I'm breathing."

"You are cold."  
"I'm not-"

"You are shivering." He pointed out. She was, but not from cold. He took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

"It's almost summer, I can't be cold, Viktor." Hermione retailiated. Cold was the least of her problems. He wrapped an arm around her and his eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

"Are you okay, Herm-own-ninny? You do not look okay." Viktor said gently. Her eyes burned. No, she wasn't okay. In her mind she saw the bodies – Tonks, the one with the pig-snout who'd entertained her at Grimmauld Place. Lupin – _Professsor _Lupin, who'd been her favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the werewolf with chocolate. And Teddy, their newborn son, orphaned. In her mind, a camera flashed and the mildly annoying Colin Creevey came to mind, harassing Harry at every turn. _Ginny's friend. _He'd been Ginny's friend. He was dead.

"I'm fine." She exhaled somewhat shakily. He picked up on it.

"You are hurt." _Mudblood. _She'd been branded, down her arm, by Bellatrix Lestrange, _his most loyal. _

"I will live." Her fist clenched and her nails dug into her palm. He put one finger under her chin and pushed it upwards gently.

"I vos thinking, Herm-own-ninny, that you are very young to be leading a revolution." Before she could respond, his lips were on hers and her stomach tightened slightly. Barely hours ago, Ron… _Ron. _But she let him have this, just once, in exchange for all those kisses she withheld from him because of Ron. Only one kiss she'd given him… Oh, that kiss.

"_Ron._" Hermione whispered hoarsely as they broke apart. Viktor smiled sadly.  
"You and him – _alvays_, it seems." He bit his lip and looked away. "I vunce thought I vould marry you." She blushed into her jeans. "But, you never visited me, Herm-own-ninny."  
"I'm sorry. I…" She took a shaky breath.

"Vould your parents not let you? Perhaps you could come after the var – only vunce you are ready, of course…"

"My parents…" A singular tear fell down her cheek. "I- it was safest… Their memories…. In Australia…. I wiped their mem-memories…. They don't know they have a daughter." Her voice broke at the end of the sentence and his whole face sort of fell down, and she started to cry. He swooped her into a hug and patted her back.

"Herm-own-ninny, I am sorry…. I did not know…"

"Her-my-oh-knee," She hiccoughed into his shoulder, "It's pronounced Her-my-oh-knee."

"My apologies, Hermione." He'd finally said it right, and she smiled a little.

"Accepted, Viktor." She said quietly.

"You know, Hermione… If you vont me to come with you, to get your parents… I vould. I vould help you." Her hand wandered into the pocket of the coat and her hand enclosed a small metal object. She pulled it out and beamed.

"You still have this?" She asked, slightly shocked. He gave a sort of embarrassed smile, showing his teeth.

"S.P.E.W vos very clever. It could go far, if people listen." He frowned slightly. "Do you still do S.P.E.W?" She felt somewhat guilty. In the midst of the last year, she'd slightly forgotten.

"I'm going to proceed with it." She told him, "Definitely. Anyways, I'll just put this…" Hermione's hand once again burrowed into the pocket, and she found something else – a small, folded bit of paper. It was really none of her business, but she wanted to see what it was. A small, crumbling bit of paper emerged from the pocket, and she instantly recognized her handwriting. _So, this is… _

"My telephone number. Do you know how to use a telephone?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Not yet, I'm learning."

"Once you've learnt, call me. Just…call me, okay, Viktor?" As she spoke, Hermione realized…She really did need someone. Harry had been through too much and Ron…his parents were still safe, at home, and he would never understand. She turned her head a little and her eyes met Viktor's…His grandfather had been killed, his mother had died when he was a child, he understood, in the best way he could. He'd pulled out of the hug, but his hands enclosed hers tightly.

"I vill, Hermione, I vill," One cold hand moved upwards and cradled her cheek in his hand, soft as moth wings. "But I am thinking you should go find Ronald." A dull ache blossomed through her chest, and she stood, realizing how much Viktor cared for her.

"I-I should. But thank you, Viktor, thank you." And then she left him forever.


End file.
